


Dead of Interest

by araxes



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dead Like Me, F/F, Major Character Undeath, Technically They Are Death Though?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araxes/pseuds/araxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a grim reaper wasn’t the easiest job in the world, Shaw knew that. It didn’t mean she was prepared for a soul that wouldn't cross over...or stop flirting with her. Unfortunately for Shaw, the rule of "unfinished business" meant she was stuck with Root and her "Already Kicked the Bucket" List.</p><p>(Dead Like Me AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sameen Shaw leaned further in her chair and tried very hard not to fall asleep.

Banks tended to have that effect on her; the slow, tedious atmosphere in combination with the lack of natural lighting and musty smell tended to make her very, very tired which was a problem for Shaw because someone was going to rob the bank in the next five minutes.

Which was something she probably should be awake for.

She checked the information on her phone again before stretching her arms over her head, trying to keep her blood flowing. Lazily, Shaw observed the people in the bank, watching for any signs of suspicious activity. Everyone seemed to be acting natural which meant that someone was either a fantastic actor or he hadn’t arrived yet.

Which pissed Shaw off to no end. The least this guy could do was be prompt for his own death.

A cold draft came through as the door opened and an anxious looking man walked in, his eyes glued to the teller’s box and his hands firmly in his pockets. Shaw grinned and stood up, walking briskly towards the man, intentionally barging into his shoulder and taking a few steps backwards. She turned to face him and mustered up her most apologetic look.

“Oh, sorry…David Turner?”

He looked confused, probably wondering where he had seen her before.

“Do I know you?”

Shaw suppressed a victorious grin and shook her head.

“Sorry, thought you were someone else…named David Turner. Gotta go.”

Without another word she pushed past him again, taking his soul with her out the door.

As soon as she left the building, Shaw huffed a breath that manifested in the cold before immediately disappearing. She pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Finch, I just got my last number.”

_“Well done, Ms. Shaw. But are you sure you got the right person?”_

In lieu of her response, she held her phone out towards the bank where David shouted something inaudible before the deafening sound of gunshots cut him off. She pulled the phone back to her ear with a grin.

“Pretty sure it was him.”

Like clockwork, people rushed out of the bank and pushed past Shaw as the alarms rang out shrilly. David exited the building last, his arms going through the door when he tried to push it open. He took a few hesitant steps outside and stopped beside Shaw, carefully looking at his hands.

“Am I dead?” He asked incredulously.

“Pretty much.” Shaw said without taking her ear off the phone.

“You can see me? What’s happening? How did I die? How am I still here?”

Shaw tuned out the rest of his questions.

“I’ll stop by the diner anyways before my shift at work.”

_“Very well, Ms. Shaw. We’ll see you then.”_

She hung up her phone and checked her watch, wondering if she could making the diner before work. An arm in her peripheral vision broke her out of her thoughts and she sighed at David pathetically trying to tap her on her shoulder.

“I can see you because I’m a reaper, yes _a_ not _the_ ; it’s a whole thing _._ I took your soul before you died so you wouldn’t feel any pain when it happened. You got shot by a security guard who has had way too much coffee this morning…and you’re not still here,” Shaw pointed behind David, “because your ride is.”

David turned around, his eyes widening at the blinding beacon of light.

“That’s for me?”

“Pretty much.” Shaw checked her phone again.

He turned around to face her.

“Should I go?”

Shaw snorted in response.

“Why the hell would you want to stay here any longer?”

That seemed to appease David as he turned around and walked slowly into the light until it devoured him whole and he disappeared from view. The sound of sirens destroyed whatever peaceful feeling the beacon evoked and Shaw waited only a few seconds longer before walking away in search of somewhere away from the New York cold.

* * *

 

The heightened traffic around the bank caused Shaw to be last at the diner which meant that everyone would have their food before her which in turn meant that Shaw had to sit through a whole meeting hungry while everyone else ate.

David had effectively ruined her whole day with his whole dying thing.

Shaw pulled off her beanie as she took a seat in the booth, the other three participants looking up for her arrival.

“Look who decided to show up today.” The woman sitting across from her teased around a sip of coffee.

“Bite me, Carter.” Shaw responded, desperately trying to get the attention of the waitress.

“In your dreams, Shaw.”

Shaw caught the waitress’ eye and turned back in her seat to face Carter properly.

“You know it.”

“Ladies,” The man beside Shaw said, “Can we not do this at breakfast?”

Shaw rolled her eyes and swapped a grin with Carter, they both enjoyed making their boss uncomfortable which was great because it was incredibly easy to do. Of all the people Shaw had worked with (in her pre and post mortem jobs) Joss Carter was probably her favorite. Steadfast, smart and righteous as hell, Carter was a total badass. She had died sometime in the 1990s at the hands of a corrupt cop with a grudge and a gun. Unlike everyone else at the table (including Shaw) Carter didn’t linger on her death, instead using her talents to rise up the ranks of the NYPD and become one of the best detectives in the city.

She also had a reputation for being bulletproof but that had more to do with her death-sponsored immortality than any particular skill.

“Your guy is on the news.” The third person said in a low, quiet voice as he pointed to the television in the corner.

Shaw turned around to see the bank where a body in a bag was being stretchered out behind a burly man being interviewed captioned as _‘hero security guard’_. She turned back around in time for the waitress to bring her stack of pancakes and a cup of coffee which she immediately reached for, warming her hands against the mug.

“Saw a graveling giving that guard free refills all morning, made him real twitchy, probably how he got the drop on our number.”

“What did his portal look like?” The man, John Reese, asked.

John Reese was a bit of a mystery. Shaw knew next to nothing about Reese’s life pre-mortem partly due to the fact that he never spoke of it and partly due to the fact that she didn’t care enough to ask. Shaw assumed he was in the army, some covert special operations based on his stature and brooding nature. Searching the name John Reese provided no results, meaning it was an alias from a shadowy government organization he was in prior to his death. His death was also a mystery to everyone but their boss who was the master of secrets so that was a bust. Post-mortem, he was a narcotics detective but more often than not, he would find himself in the right place at the right time to stop all kinds of crimes. That was probably the defining feature of John Reese, he had a hero complex the size of Superman; he _cared_ in a way Shaw would never understand, about the numbers, about their little group of misfits and about the people he tried to save. He was distant, but he was warm and he cared in an awkward but genuine way that Shaw didn’t mind so much; he had a good nature and a sense of humor and she didn’t hate spending time with him.

Shaw shrugged at his question, she didn’t understand why Reese was so curious about people’s respective Tunnel of Lights. Though they were unique to every person and took the form of that person’s dream location, most people had really shitty imaginations so it usually cycled through the same six things. She called Reese out on his fascination a few times but he would only shrug in response and say it was just curiosity. Shaw didn’t care enough to investigate further, so she would usually just inform him and let him do whatever he did with the information.

“Mansion.” She mumbled around a mouthful of pancakes.

Reese nodded thankfully and leaned back in the booth.

“I’m sending everyone their numbers for today. Ms. Shaw, I know you already had a number this morning but I’m afraid you have one more for later this evening.” The man seated beside Shaw said as he typed away on his computer.

Shaw shrugged.

“Find me a way out of work then, Finch.”

He sighed and nodded an affirmative before continuing to type away on his computer. Out of everyone she had ever met in her life, Harold Finch was the biggest mystery by a wide margin. Though she could correctly assume general facts about Reese, she knew almost nothing about Finch beside the fact that he was a man who enjoyed his privacy. Pre-mortem was a bust, Harold Finch was an alias and not one given by the government based on his aversion to gore and violence. She didn’t know when or how he died and she doubted that Reese knew either, even though Harold was fully aware of Reese’s circumstances. Post-mortem, he didn’t work a day job which meant he was independently wealthy and incredibly reclusive like some weird Batman without the cape and cowl. Shaw only knew that he enjoyed literature (based on a glimpse of a worn hardcover in his briefcase) and computers based on his effortless manipulation of them. Regardless, Finch was professional and distant in a way that Shaw both respected and admired.

Shaw looked around the table at their little group of immortal misfits. She had been with the group for going on twenty years now, joining after Finch and Reese and before Carter. Out of all the rotations and the other reapers she ran into during her work, the people around her made up her favorite group (though she’d never admit that) and she didn’t hate the company they provided in their shared purgatory.

But if she had to choose between moving on and staying behind with these people, she would leave in a non-existent heartbeat.

Not that she was leaving any time soon; their quotas were kept secret but she was sure that hers was a long, long way off which was unfair because the person that Carter replaced, a man by the name of Leon Tao, got his out after only three years of community service.

Her musings were cut short by a beeping around the table, indicating the arrival of Finch’s numbers. Shaw checked her phone and caught a fake doctor’s certificate Finch had created which meant a day off from her day job from hell. She then checked her number and furrowed her brow at the details.

_S. Groves_

_New York University Palladium Residence Hall_

_E.T.D : 11:45pm_

 

Shaw sighed, annoyed that her early start would be accompanied by a late end.

Whoever S. Groves was, they were already a giant pain in her ass.


	2. Chapter 2

Shaw checked her watch for the fourth time in a minute. She had been camped out by the door for the last hour, glaring at any student who even looked at her funny. Their looks were a little warranted seeing as when Shaw died, she was at the tender age of thirty-two which meant that for the duration of her service, she was frozen at that age. Which was one good thing about the whole reaper job besides the immortality thing; being (technically) fifty-two years old and looking like she did was a pretty nice cherry on top of a shit sundae.

She sighed again and checked her phone, rereading the details of her number despite the fact she had memorized it hours ago. Whoever S. Groves was, they were going to die in less than twenty minutes and they didn’t even know it yet. Shaw glanced back up at the group of incoming students, suddenly overwhelmed with trying to find her number. Usually, Finch would do some computer magic to procure a first name and a picture but searching for S. Groves gave nothing which meant that her number could be literally any student walking in through the doors.

Shaw stood up and stretched her legs, walking to the receptionist table and leaning over slightly. She put on her fake cheery act and caught the receptionist’s attention.

“Hi, there. I’m looking for my friend who lives here? Their last name is Groves?”

The girl looked at Shaw skeptically before going back to her computer and presumably typing the name in.

“There’s no one here by that name.” She said.

Shaw furrowed her brow.

“Are you sure, because they said they lived here and I’m already late so-”

“I can’t find a student ID with that name, maybe you should ask your _friend_.”

Without another word, she went back to ignoring Shaw completely. Shaw grumbled a bit before going back to where she was seated. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

“Detective Fusco here.”

“Lionel.” Shaw responded.

“Look here, Ripley. I got my ass burned for helping you last time so whatever you need from me, you can get it from your friend Tall, Dark and Moody.”

Shaw grinned. Lionel Fusco was her singular non-reaper friend; he was a cop, once corrupt, who worked with Carter and partnered with Reese and though they never told him about their real jobs, Shaw was pretty sure that Lionel had an inkling.

“But this is a job that only your clumsy hands can handle.” She responded. Truthfully, she didn’t like asking Reese or Carter for help, happy with her reputation of completing her numbers _without_ help from her day job.

“Very funny, Shaw. Just give me the name so I can get back to work.”

“S. Groves. G-R-O-V-E-S,” she heard typing on the other line over Fusco’s loud chewing, “and by work I’m assuming you mean whatever processed garbage you’re shoving into your mouth right now.”

Fusco mumbled what was probably a disparaging comment around his food.

“Can’t find anything for Groves,” he swallowed, “tough luck, kid.”

“Thanks for nothing, Lionel.”

Shaw didn’t give Fusco a chance to retort, hanging up the phone immediately. She sighed again, she _really_ hated this S. Groves; as far as Shaw was concerned, their death wasn’t coming soon enough.

She rubbed at her eyes tiredly, almost missing the flash of long brunette hair storming past her. The woman didn’t even notice her presence, her eyes glued to the elevator doors as she pressed the button rapidly. Shaw looked at her phone again before the loud _ding_ of the elevator alerted her and she embarrassingly ran to catch the elevator doors. She had to reach an arm through the door to stop it from closing as the woman didn’t care enough to press the ‘door open’ button, but she managed to slip in and stand beside the woman without a problem. Shaw glanced at her from the corner of her eye. She was tall, wearing all black much like Shaw, with glasses perched on her (admittedly nice) nose; she was also older than a lot of the acne ridden students Shaw had seen that day which either meant that she was one of those losers who spent their life in college or she wasn’t a college student at all.

Which explained a lot of things.

Shaw was now staring at the woman totally conspicuously but that didn’t seem to capture her attention. She was staring at the elevator doors with laser focus, probably not even aware of Shaw’s presence. She looked a little determined and a whole lot guarded which was the perfect recipe for someone who shouldn’t be where they were.

The elevator slowed down as they apparently reached the woman’s stop. Shaw hesitated for a few seconds until the elevator came to a stop and before she knew it, she grabbed her arm.

“Uh…sorry.” Shaw mumbled, devoid of an excuse at the woman’s baffled expression.

“It’s fine.” The woman said, pulling her arm free and making for the door.

“I’m Sam.”

The woman stopped and looked at Shaw with her eyebrows raised.

“Stephanie.” The woman, Stephanie, responded.

Shaw’s stomach jumped and she made a last-ditch effort to gauge the woman.

“Stephanie…Groves?” Shaw asked tentatively.

The woman’s eyes widened and her face grew deathly pale. Shaw took that as confirmation and barely managed to retrieve Stephanie’s soul before she found herself slumped on the floor and convulsing violently as waves of pain went through her. Shaw’s head lolled to the side limply as she shook the current out. Stephanie Groves shut the elevator doors before leaning down next to her.

“Sorry about that.”

She reached into Shaw’s jacket and pulled out Shaw’s wallet, looking through it slowly.

“Sameen Grey,” she dictated, “Well that’s obviously a fake name.”

She threw the wallet back at Shaw and paused staring into Shaw’s eyes intently.

“What are you, Sam? ISA? CIA?”

Shaw narrowed her eyes, hoping it conveyed the _fuck you_ she was communicating. Apparently it did because she let out a humorless laugh and stood back up.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” She paused as if she were pondering something, “I’ll kill you on the way out.”

She nodded to herself and left the elevator, the doors closing behind her slowly while Shaw stayed on the floor. Shaw wasn’t a stranger to the taser, most people were a little weirded out by her approach and her knowledge of their name and they were also armed to the teeth. At this point though, Shaw almost preferred getting shot to being tased; getting shot meant a few seconds of pain before she would fall unconscious and her body would push the bullet out. Being tased meant suffering through every excruciating current until she could walk on steady legs again; it also reminded her of the time she got tased by some middle-aged housewife and bit straight through her own tongue. Suffice to say, Shaw hated being tased.

She laid limply as the elevator whirred to life and lowered to the main lobby. The doors opened again and a man with curly hair dressed in all black who also looked like he had no business on a university campus walked in followed by a pack of gravelings. He pressed the button to the woman’s floor and then at his earpiece.

“Our hacker’s here, ma’am.”

He paused and looked at Shaw.

“I’m quite sure….yes ma’am, at once.”

He hung up and retrieved a silenced gun from his coat pocket, staring at the doors intently as they opened.

“She got you good, huh?”

Shaw gurgled something inaudible as he walked out followed by the gremlin-like creatures.

She stayed on the elevator floor for a few more trips. By the time feeling returned to her extremities and she could stand without feeling like she would throw up, Shaw heard the telltale sound of gunshots. Without another second’s hesitation, she got up and left the building.

As she stepped in the night, Shaw breathed in the cold air and exhaled it slowly. She ran a hand through her hair and pulled out her beanie, fastening it over her head. With a glance at the time, Shaw began to make the long trek home.

Until she was stopped by a voice from somewhere behind her.

“Am I dead?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey wait, you can hear me.”

Shaw turned around and faced the woman with a glare instead of an answer.

“What’s happening to me? Am I a ghost?”

Shaw checked her watch, four hours until she had to wake up for work. She walked to the side of the building and leaned against the wall.

“Look, usually I’d explain this whole thing to you but I don’t really have the time _and_ I’m still a little salty about being tased. So just shut up until your ride gets here and I can move on with my life.”

“To be fair, I thought you were trying to kill me. Which you did, technically.”

Shaw dropped her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

“I didn’t kill you, that government weirdo did.”

“Aren’t you the grim reaper or something?”

Shaw sighed and opened her eyes.

“I’m _a_ reaper, and do I look grim to you?”

The woman tilted her head in thought.

“Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

The woman walked towards Shaw and stood against the wall it besides her.

“So if you don’t kill people, what is it that you do?”

Shaw suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. The frequently asked questions of the recently deceased got old really quick, to the point where Shaw considered printing up an actual fact sheet so she could avoid it. Finch had vetoed that decision almost immediately, arguing that _“these people are in the most vulnerable position of their lives. Part two of your job involves guiding people into the afterlife. Unfortunately for you, that requires some tact and grace.”_ It served Shaw right for sharing the idea with Reese, the snitch.

“I reap their souls, take em out of their bodies before they die. Then I wait here until their lights come and then I leave for the next loser of life’s lottery.”

The woman furrowed her brow, Shaw could see the questions racing in her mind.

“So I wouldn’t have died if I avoided you in the elevator?”

“No, you’d die but you’d…stick around in your body afterwards,” Shaw grimaced, “and you don’t want that.”

She hadn’t ever missed a number but she had heard the horror stories of people being stuck in their bodies during autopsies, burials, _cremations_. It was enough to send a shiver through Shaw’s spine, even Finch called it _“a fate worse than death.”_

Shaw’s pondering was interrupted by her ringtone, she retrieved the phone and put it to her ear.

“Reese.”

_“How’s the number going?”_

He sounded smug, Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Perfect. Just waiting for the light show.”

 _“Our guy or girl doing okay?”_ He asked, always the knight in shining number.

Shaw looked at the woman, she looked (rightfully) confused and a little distracted by her only corporeality but she seemed okay on the outside. She walked away a few steps and dropped her voice into a murmur.

“ _She’s_ fine. Killed by some slimy government dude, probably a friend of yours,” Shaw said, “You ever hear of a Stephanie Groves in your line of work?”

_“Doesn’t ring a bell.”_

“Whatever, I’m heading out soon, Reese. Tell Finch I’m skipping breakfast tomorrow and that he owes me.”

She didn’t give Reese a chance to respond, hanging up the phone and walking back towards the woman.

“Sam.”

“What?” Shaw answered.

“That’s my name…well, Samantha, technically.” She said.

Shaw nodded dumbly but didn’t respond.

“Actually…I prefer to go by Root. So…you can call me Root.” The woman, Root, said.

“That’s kind of a dumb nickname.” Shaw scoffed and looked at Root. She looked sadder, her eyes downturned and wistful like she was just hitting the regrets portion of post-death grief.

“Shaw,” She said, Root looked up at her, “My real name is Shaw, not Grey. That’s…a work thing.”

It was more a conflict of interest thing seeing as there were still records of Sameen Shaw and people who might know or recognize her but Shaw didn’t say that. Root returned the nod and went back to staring at the sky. A few blissful minutes of silence went by before she broke it, once again.

“How long do these things take usually?” Root asked.

Shaw sighed and checked her watch again.

“Not this long.”

It had been about half an hour since Root’s death and Shaw was getting more than a little annoyed. People refused to move on all the time – Shaw was reminded of the two hours she spent chasing a guy running from his lights – but it wasn’t because their lights didn’t show up.

“Maybe I don’t get to go up,” Shaw looked at her, “because of the things I’ve done.”

Root was effectively brooding now. Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Everyone gets lights, good or bad or whatever else,” Shaw looked up at the night, “everyone gets lights…”

It sounded like a question to her ears and her stomach started to churn with nerves. Of course the weird shit would happen to her, of course she would get the number who was a special snowflake…

“Well, if that’s true then you wouldn’t mind if I left for a while.” Root said, taking a few steps forward, apparently over whatever depressing thoughts she was consumed by.

“They usually come around where you died.” Shaw said, not keen on following Root around all night.

“I don’t see anything,” Root said as she looked around, “so I’m gonna go ahead and take care of some last minute errands if that’s okay with you.”

Shaw clenched her jaw and tried very hard not to explode at an invisible person in the middle of the night.

“No, it’s not okay. Stay here until your lights show up.”

“Or what?” Root said with a smirk.

Shaw scoffed.

“Are you twelve?”

“No, but from the sounds of it you don’t have much in the way of power so you can either follow me all around town all night _or_ you can go to your coffin or tomb or whatever it is you sleep in and _‘move on with your life’._ ”

Before Shaw could answer, the ringing of her phone interrupted her. She took it out and checked the caller ID.

_Harold Finch._

A pang of dread like nothing Shaw had ever felt before hit her. Finch didn’t make social calls and he knew that Shaw didn’t take them. Which meant it was about business, which meant that Finch knew about her number, which meant he got a call from Upper Management.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Shaw was a field medic and before that she was a doctor. She had seen the worst of the worst but nothing made her more nervous that Upper Management (for a while, Shaw wondered if they programmed them to be afraid when they became reapers). Nobody knew anything about Upper Management besides the rumors which evolved in insanity every time Shaw heard them. There was always a story about a reaper who knew another reaper who worked briefly with another reaper who piggybacked off someone’s lights and paid the ultimate price. Shaw doubted it was true but a call from Upper Management was never a good thing.

“You gonna answer that?” Root asked, looking between Shaw and the phone.

Shaw steeled her nerves and put the phone to her ear, keeping her eyes on Root.

“Finch.”

_“Ms. Shaw, are you finished with your number?”_

She looked up at Root who was leaning against the wall nonchalantly.

“Almost…” She answered.

_“Very good.”_

He sounded relieved which meant he didn’t know which meant no call from Upper Management. Finch stayed silent for a few more seconds and Shaw’s annoyance grew. She turned around and her dropped voice into a whisper, trying to maintain some semblance of privacy.

“Is that all you called for, Finch? I don’t need you and John checking up on m -”

Finch’s voice cut her off.

_“I just received a new number around your area that’s due in an hour. I called you since you’re still awake and you’re around the area.”_

Shaw rubbed at her eyes as she looked at her watch, three and a half hours until she had to wake up for work. She still didn’t know what to do with the Root situation; briefly, she thought about telling Finch but the thought of the lecture she’d get for somehow being responsible for Root’s problem made her hesitate. Shaw sighed, maybe she could get Root to follow her around like some ghost puppy until whatever was malfunctioning could be fixed.

“Send me the details.” She said, hanging up the phone without a goodbye.

Shaw prepared the plan she would tell Root and turned around to find her missing.

“Root.” Shaw said, wondering if she somehow missed her lights. She shook her head, even if she didn’t see the lights (and she would have) she probably would have heard or felt them.

Which meant Root ran away.

Shaw looked around the building and in the hidden corners, all while whisper-shouting Root’s name. She walked around doing that and looking like a crazy person for at least fifteen minutes before the beep indicating the new number’s details interrupted her. She looked at her phone and then at her surroundings, finding no trace of Root which was obvious seeing as Root didn’t want to be found nor did she want to move on, apparently. Forty five minutes to find her new number, Shaw knew the consequences of not reaping a soul and they far outweighed the consequences of an untouchable, invisible ghost wandering around.

Besides, the Root thing wasn’t even her fault. Not reaping this new guy, that would definitely be her fault. With a shaky breath Shaw walked in the direction of the new number. If she was lucky, she would get an hour of sleep before work.

Fucking Root.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving slowly in the story so I'll try to post more frequently to balance it out until chapters can get a bit longer. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Shaw’s alarm blared at too-fucking-early a.m.

She punched at its general direction and sat up, rubbing the tiredness out of her eyes. She stretched the ache out of her limbs and stumbled towards the bathroom for a shower. The pipes groaned as she walked into the freezing cold water. Her shower, like her apartment, was old and shitty; a gift from Finch who “appropriated” a former number’s home for her. Unfortunately, people who died without family or friends noticing typically didn’t live in luxury condos and her jobs paid absolutely nothing and damn near nothing.

Shaw got out of the shower and dressed in the ridiculously short, low cut black dress that constituted a work uniform. She glared at the nametag, as if personally offended by it, before bundling up in a large winter coat and making the long journey to the diner.

“Two orders of waffles, syrup on the side, six strips bacon, extra, extra crispy and a coffee as black as death itself.”

The waitress stood frozen, her hand still holding an outstretched menu. She only withstood a few more seconds of Shaw’s intense gaze before she nodded dumbly and walked away. The rest of the booth stared at Shaw until she looked back at them.

“What?”

Their shocked gazes dropped as everything returned back to relative normalcy. The waitress brought over Shaw’s coffee and Shaw managed a terse ‘ _thanks’_ this time.

“What time did you finish up last night, Shaw?” Reese asked over his scrambled eggs.

“About three.” Shaw said.

“Was it interesting?” Carter asked.

_Fuck yes._

A shrug and then a dismissal as her food arrived, the smell instantly waking Shaw up. She immediately stabbed a piece of bacon with her fork and shoved it in its entirety into her mouth.

“What did her lights look like?”

“Why are you all so obsessed with me today?” She said, her cheek bulging with bacon.

Carter seemed to accept it and went back to whatever paperwork she was working on. Reese, however, looked like he had more questions and Shaw glared at him until he shut them all down.

“Everyone should receive their numbers shortly. Ms. Shaw, yours will be after your shift at work.” Finch said over the beeping of their phones.

Shaw mumbled a thanks and checked the message on her phone, memorizing all the details of her number instantly. Briefly, she thought about Root and wondered if she was still wandering around New York like Casper the Psychotic Ghost. Shaw reasoned that no divine intervention or call from Upper Management meant that Root got her lights somewhere around dawn which meant that Shaw could file the memory away into a corner of her mind labelled _“do not revisit”_.

“I must be off, I have some other work to get to.” Finch said as he got up and waited expectantly for Shaw to slide out of the booth.

“What kind of other work?” Shaw asked as she scooted out of the booth to let Finch out before dropping back unceremoniously.

“Once again, I ask that you respect my privacy,” Finch said, Shaw waved him off, “I’ll see you all here tomorrow.”

Shaw shoved another forkful of waffles into her mouth as Finch left.

“I should go too…Captain has been on my case all week.” Reese pushed his plate towards Shaw and stood up.

“She wouldn’t be on your ass if you didn’t shoot a guy in the knee _again_.” Carter said, looking up from her paperwork in amusement.

Reese shrugged awkwardly.

“It was cold out and I wanted to go home.”

Shaw snorted and he left without a goodbye before it could turn into full on laughter. Carter went back to her paperwork as Shaw pulled Reese’s food towards her and got to her own work. The booth was comfortably silent for a few minutes as Carter finished her scrawling and Shaw finished her second breakfast.

When she finished, Shaw sat back in her seat, enjoying the amicable silence as Carter scribbled noiselessly and the chatter of the diner fused into a dull noise. She felt the sense of normalcy return as all thoughts of the previous night disappeared from her brain with every sip of her coffee.

* * *

 

Three hours into work and Shaw was ready to staple a ribbon to someone’s forehead.

Winter meant Christmas and Christmas meant more obnoxious customers with low patience and even lower IQ. That, combined with the Christmas music, made Shaw curious about experimenting with a suicide attempt when one was burdened with immortality. Working a makeup counter surprisingly wasn’t Shaw’s first choice of career. In a previous life she was a doctor and a field medic, now she was stuck applying lipstick to women who refused to stop talking long enough for even that to happen.

Shaw had just finished stapling the last ribbon bow to a decoration box when a she was interrupted by a voice behind her.

“I’m guessing you weren’t a girl scout.”

Shaw turned around, ready to deliver her special brand of customer service, until she was frozen by the face attached to the voice.

“Or do you pre-date the girl scouts?”

Root was seated on Shaw’s makeup chair, idly scanning the nail polish. Shaw’s eye widened and every bit of hope disappeared with every step she took towards Root.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Shaw said under her breath. Her voice was laced with enough venom to make a normal person flinch; unfortunately, as Shaw was discovering, Root was far from normal.

“You’d know better than I would,” Root smiled patronizingly as she leaned closer to Shaw, “It’s my first time.”

“I mean,” Shaw let out a shaky breath, “what are you _here_?”

The infuriating grin on Root’s face only got wider.

“I followed you home, obviously. I wanted to know how a grim reaper lives,” Root said, “I guess death doesn’t pay that well.”

Shaw slammed her hand on the table closest to Root, pleased by the slight flinch on her face. She leaned in closer to Root until their faces were only inches apart, dropping her voice into a whisper.

“You tased me and then ran away from me instead of waiting like I told you to. Obviously, you don’t want my help and I’m not so keen on giving it to you,” Shaw said angrily, “so do me a favor, and leave me alone.”

To her credit, Root didn’t back down.

“I’d love to. But for that to happen, _I need you_ ,” She said, Shaw noticed Root’s eyes drop to her lips and she couldn’t help doing the same, “I want to get out of here and I’m guessing that you feel the same way so until we figure this out, forget how you feel about me and do your job.”

Shaw sighed. As much as it pained her to admit it, she was right. Root was her number which meant that she was Shaw’s responsibility; whatever happened to her was Shaw’s problem and if she didn’t want Upper Management to find out, she had to fix it.

“Fine,” Shaw leaned back, “I’ll forget how I feel about you. Meet me outside at the end of my shift and then we’ll sort this _thing_ out.”

“Perfect.”

Root grinned triumphantly.

Shaw glared at Root for a few more seconds before her concentration was broken by movement in her peripheral vision. She looked up to see the entire floor of customers, a few coworkers and her manager staring at her bewildered. She looked back at Root to see her trying and failing to muffle her laughter.

Shaw fucking hated ghosts.

* * *

 

“Where are we going?”

Shaw ignored the voice from beside her and kept walking. She was still a little embarrassed by the mall fiasco, it wasn’t the first time she had been caught “talking to herself” but it was the first time her boss caught her and demanded she take a mental day off.

Which wasn’t too bad of a consequence if her boss wasn’t an insufferable asshole about it.

“Can you at least slow down? I don’t know how you’re walking so fast with such short legs.”

Shaw stopped dead in her tracks.

“Do not.”

To Shaw’s credit, Root’s dumb smirk disappeared. Unfortunately, it was replaced by more talking.

“Just tell me where we’re going and I’ll let you look like a normal person.”

Shaw continued walking, albeit more slowly.

“We’re going to see my…coworkers. They’ve been doing this longer than I have, they might know what to do.”

_They might also call Upper Management to take care of her_ but she didn’t vocalize that part.

“So you have like, a team of grim reapers?”

“Just reapers and yes.”

Root looked slightly confused so Shaw sighed and started at the top of the FAQ list.

“There are reapers assigned to every city, maybe more in one depending on how big the city is. Usually, we work in teams of four, one of us gets the names of people who are gonna die that day and then gives everyone their own case. We get a first initial, a last name, a location and an estimated time of death or ETD. My team works the “external influences” division which is your usual accidents, suicides or homicides.”

Root winced, Shaw only felt a little bad about it.

They reached the police station and Shaw got a hand on the door before being stopped.

“I have a question,” Root said, Shaw turned to look at her expectantly, “the all black thing, is that a uniform or is that just how you dress?”

Shaw rolled her eyes and turned back around to push the door open, hiding the tiny smile on her face. She motioned for Root to stay at the door (an order which Root shockingly took) and walked to Carter’s desk, totally nonchalant.

“That a work thing or a _work_ thing?” Shaw asked, pointing at it.

Carter looked up, surprised before her face broke into a smirk.

“Bit of both.”

Shaw returned the smile. At Carter’s inquisitive look she cleared her throat, a little annoyed that Root’s monopolization of her time meant she didn’t have a solid plan prepared.

“Where’s John?” Shaw asked, looking around.

“Captain’s office, should be out in a bit. I’m guessing this isn’t a social visit so just cut to the chase.” Carter said, her eyes on her paperwork.

Shaw let out a breath slowly.

“So…you remember that number I got last night? Roo…S. Groves, 11:45pm?”

Carter nodded slowly.

“Well uh…she’s still here.”

Shaw nodded at the doorway where Root was looking over some guy’s shoulder at his phone. Root caught their eyes and turned to face them, meeting Carter’s shocked expressions with a smile and a wave. Shaw resisted the urge to laugh at Carter’s horrified expression as Root walked over; she reached the table and stood beside Shaw, looking totally unharmed by her stare.

“Always nice to meet a friend of Sam’s.”


	5. Chapter 5

“What the hell is she doing here, Shaw?”

“I was hoping you or John could tell me that.”

“What made you think I have any idea how to deal with this? I mean,” Carter stopped and sighed, “this isn’t someone running away from their lights this is…different.”

Shaw frowned and glanced at Root who was pretending not to listen to their conversation.

“You could say that again.” She mumbled, energy drained along with her hope.

“Say what again?”

Shaw turned around to see Reese walking towards them slowly; if he was being chewed out he didn’t show it, but then again, Reese always got out of shitty situations looking suave and unscathed in his signature suit.

“Shaw made a ghost.” Carter deadpanned, nodding towards Root.

Reese glanced at her and received a perfect sneer in response. Shaw smirked, apparently there were still women who were immune to Reese’s charms.

“She ran away from her lights?” He said, still cool and calm despite the situation.

“She didn’t _get_ lights, Reese,” Shaw responded, “but yes, she also ran away.”

His face twitched imperceptibly, Root had the decency to look sheepish.

“Have you tried taking her back?” Carter asked.

“Went there before we got here, waited about an hour or so. No lights.” Shaw responded, leaning against Carter’s table.

Silence fell as the group stared at Root like she was a puzzle they were trying to solve. Root herself didn’t seem uncomfortable by the attention, only inspecting the flecked, black paint on her fingernails as she was being watched.

“Maybe it’s you.” Reese suggested.

“Are you saying I can’t get it up, Reese?” Shaw said dryly.

“We’re just exploring the possibilities.” Carter answered, ever the faithful partner.

Shaw rubbed at her eyes, annoyed as she was, they had a point and a strategy.

“I reaped some guy after her and everything went smoothly,” Shaw said, “whatever this problem is, it starts and ends with her.” She nodded at Root, the group focused its attention on her once as she squirmed uncomfortably, seemingly unhappy with the current attention.

“We have to tell Finch.” Carter said.

“He’s busy.” Reese injected before Shaw could argue.

“What could he be busy with that’s more important than this?” Carter asked angrily.

Reese looked at her impassively, he wasn’t going to break.

Shaw cleared her throat and the awkward situation.

“Leave me out of your unresolved sexual tension, guys. What am I supposed to do with her for now?” Shaw asked.

Reese shrugged.

“Haven’t got a call from upper management, that’s a good thing. Maybe you just have to wait it out?” He said.

Shaw turned to Carter.

“I have to agree with John. Unless Finch knows something we don’t,” she levelled a glare at Reese, “you can’t really do much. You just gotta keep her around.”

“You know I can hear you.” Root said dryly, sounding as enthused as Shaw felt.

“That’s the problem.” Shaw muttered.

“Carter, Reese, my office.” A voice from behind Shaw called out. Judging by the regretful look on Reese’s face, it was their captain which meant he was in trouble once again.

“Good luck, Shaw.” Carter teased, patting Shaw on the shoulder as she walked past her.

Reese offered her a nod and received an eye roll. Shaw collapsed on the chair beside Root, covering her face with her hands as if trying to block the situation she was in.

“Hey Maybelline, I’m guessing you ain’t here for the coffee.”

Shaw opened her eyes, Fusco was seated at his table watching her bemusedly.

“Donuts, Lionel, isn’t that a bit of a cliché?” Shaw said.

Fusco shrugged and shoved the last of the pastry into his mouth. Shaw watched him chew thoughtfully, catching Root looking disgusted and repressing a smile. Fusco was brash and lazy but he was a good cop and sometimes he would catch things Shaw herself would miss.

“Hey, Fusco,” Shaw said, “you believe in ghosts?”

Fusco swallowed his food and huffed a laugh. He looked at Shaw and when he realized she wasn’t kidding, stopped abruptly.

“Uh…I mean, I guess it’s possible? Why, did one say anything abo-”

“How would you get rid of a ghost?” Shaw asked, she caught the skeptical look on Root’s face and added, “Hypothetically.”

Fusco scratched the back of his neck, deep in thought. Shaw waited long enough to almost regret asking in the first place and, judging by the look on Root’s face, she felt the same way too.

“Isn’t there usually something about, like, unfinished business.” He suggested, it came out more like a question.

Shaw rolled her eyes.

“Everyone has unfinished business, you think people go to the grave totally fulfilled.” She scoffed.

Fusco shrugged.

“I’m just answering your question. You could always ask the ghost yourself if there’s anything keeping them around,” He stood up, wiping the crumbs off his jacket as he walked past Shaw, “hypothetically, of course.”

Shaw groaned as she stretched her aching arms and leaned back further in her chair. Every minute that passed seemed to make the situation more hopeless to the point where Shaw was almost considering having Root around as some sort of permanent, corporeal pet. A shiver ran through Shaw’s spine.

“He could be right, you know.” Root said, eyes distant like she was genuinely mulling something over.

“Please,” Shaw scoffed, “this isn’t some shitty kids show-”

“No, it’s real life where there’s reapers and souls and ghosts.” Root shot back.

Shaw met the challenging look she was sent before giving up and responding.

“Fine, it’s a possibility. Doesn’t meet I’m gonna go around and run errands for you.”

“I haven’t heard a better idea.” Root said, throwing her hands in the air.

Shaw stared at her impassively before a beeping on her phone interrupted her. She checked it to see a reminder of her newest number which was due in an hour.

“C’mon,” Shaw sighed as she got up, “we can get lunch before we get this guy.”

Root rolled her eyes and followed her out of the police station and into the cold.

* * *

 

“Usually people want to say goodbye to their families or go to their funerals or some shit, whe-”

“I don’t have any family.” Root interrupted. She looked more annoyed than usual but Shaw chalked it up to not being able to partake in a burger.

Shaw popped a chip into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. She was trying to go through the usual triggers that people stayed behind for but Root was doubling down on the barriers. Shaw sighed and decided to try a different approach.

“Then where’d you go last night?” She asked, not caring that she was essentially talking to herself from an outsider’s perspective.

“I thought I found something and I wanted to make sure I actually did…” Root trailed off and shook her head, “it doesn’t matter. I can’t do anything like this anyways.”

“Can you cut that vague shit out,” Shaw said, putting down her fork, “just tell me why a government agent wanted to kill you?”

Root met her gaze and leaned forward conspiratorially

“Because I kill people for money.” She said, her voice a low growl.

Shaw chewed on her food, eyebrows raised. Root didn’t look to be joking, nor did she have any reason to be which meant she was totally serious. Shaw laughed and if the look on Root’s face meant anything, she was not expecting that response at all.

“You’re telling me that you’re an assassin?” Shaw asked with a humored expression.

Root frowned.

"How is what I do different to what you do?" She responded icily, "we both do a job that has to be done."

Shaw laughed.

"It's not even remotely the same," Shaw said incredulously, "I don't kill people-"

"But you don't warn them either, you don't stop them from dying. You let it happen because you're the same monster I am." Root said, her face breaking into an toothy smile. She looked truly scary and Shaw finally noticed her for the cold-blooded killer that she was.

"You don't care about people, Shaw. Why would you? People are dumb and selfish. We take and hurt because they can, because we weren't built for anything, because we're sick. Humans, Shaw," Root said, looking wistful and angry, "humans are just bad code."

Shaw watched Root eye the people outside the windows. She couldn't deny what Root said, it was a thought she had several times before she was dead, before she had to collect the prizes of serial killers and angered spouses and people with grudges. It was a thought she had when she was a doctor, when she would stitch up a wound given by a spouse who had gotten too angry or pulled a bullet out of someone who was better off dead or even when she would pull a sheet over someone who should've lived, who _would've_ lived if it wasn't for someone else. It was a thought she had even before then, when she was young and didn't care for other people, didn't  _understand_ them, didn't connect with them. Shaw had seen all the ugliness of the world and felt nothing for it's people.

And yet, she couldn't admit that to Root. There was something in her mind that denied it, something that knew she was wrong, something that believed in the best of people. But judging but the look in Root's eyes, it wasn't something she was ready to hear and truthfully, Shaw didn't know if it was something she could even communicate.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

“So what, last night you were doing a job? The government guy referred to you as a hacker.”

“He didn’t kill me because of my job.” Root said, looking back at Shaw.

Shaw leaned back in the booth.

“So why did he kill you?” She asked, curiosity piqued.

“Because I found something I shouldn’t have…” Root said, brow furrowed as if she was deep in thought, as if she was coming to the realization herself.

Shaw’s scoffed and took a sip of her coffee, Root looked a million miles away as if she was piecing together a puzzle. Shaw checked her watch, half an hour until her next number; she sighed as she looked outside, savoring the warmth of the coffee and the heating of the diner.

“Shaw.”

Root looked more serious than Shaw had ever seen her, her eyes wild and desperate.

“I know what I need to do.” Root said sternly. 

* * *

 

“You want me to help you get to whatever that government guy killed you for?” Shaw asked incredulously as she stood outside the diner, “Absolutely not.”

“I need to know that I was on the right track, I need to know if it really exis-”

Shaw cut her off with a scoff and began walking away. Root hurried to keep up beside her, trying and failing to get Shaw’s attention. Unfortunately for Shaw, they reach a traffic light and a large crowd which meant coming to a dead halt and allowing Root to stand in front of her.

“It could be the thing I need to move over.” Root said desperately.

“Whatever _it_ is, it’s something the government is willing to kill for. I’m not putting my neck out on the line for someone who just admitted to being a psychopath and a serial killer.” Shaw said. The light turned green and she began walking again, pushing past people in an effort to get away from Root.

She kept the brisk pace up until she reached the address of her newer number at which point Root tried and failed to grab at her arm. Shaw felt slightly bad and stopped with a sigh, looking at Root.

“Whether you want to admit this or not, this is the way we need to be working. I can’t do this alone, I…I tried last night but it’s impossible like _this_ ,” Root said, gesturing to herself, “I need you, Shaw. Just to get the research I already have so I can know...So I can _move on._ Isn’t that what you want?”

Shaw eyed her with a frown. Root was right and she couldn’t deny it. If she was bound by some unfinished business than surely it would be what led to her death. If it was as easy as she claimed, Root’s problem, _her_ problem would be over in less than a day.

And yet…there was something stopping her. A small niggling in the back of her mind, a hair standing at the back of her neck when Root spoke about whatever she found. Whatever she wanted, whatever she found that led to her death…it wasn’t good news and based on what she knew about Root, she wasn’t either.

Shaw looked away.

“There has to be another way.”

“This is the only way,” Root’s voice got shrill as her desperation grew more pronounced, “the sooner you accept that, the sooner this is over, don’t you understand?”

Shaw met her glare without a flinch. She stood up to the challenge without a word and they continued the stare off until Root clenched her fists and huffed out a breath.

“Fine. Let me know when you come to your senses.” Root said and without another word, she walked away.

Shaw watched her leave with hesitance, almost wishing that Root yelled a little more, that she tried harder to convince her, to muffle the voice in the back of her head that screamed it was a bad idea. She sighed and looked back at the building.

There was a different way and she was going to find it.


	6. Chapter 6

Shaw left her apartment with a hangover and a mighty need for coffee.

Her last number had been a very successful alcoholic and Shaw may have pilfered some of his supply. Generally, she wasn’t fond of stealing from the dead (not including the house and car) but her incredibly long day combined with her conversation with Root made her feel entitled to a little free booze. It wasn’t like the guy who drowned in his own bathtub had any use for it.

After stumbling back home, Shaw had almost expected to see Root in her apartment with a renewed desire to argue for whatever creepy nonsense she wanted Shaw to do. The relief Shaw felt when she got home and then woke up without seeing the woman was palpable; not only was Root exhausting and annoying to be around but Shaw wasn’t sure if she could protest her plan in her weakened state. Finding another way to complete Root’s unfinished business meant finding more information about Root herself.

Which brought Shaw to the apartment of John Reese.

She knocked on the door with slight hesitance. She liked Reese and he seemed to like her back but neither of them were particularly sociable people who visited each other or talked over brunch. She wasn’t built like that and he was awkward and uncomfortable in any situation where he had to talk which meant they didn’t spent much time together.

It also meant that Shaw was breaking a major unspoken rule by being here.

She reasoned that she didn’t really have a choice. The Root situation was getting more complicated with every passing day and if she needed information on the woman, she had to get to the one person who could get such information.

Which wasn’t Reese.

Finch had a way of finding information about their numbers that Shaw couldn’t even understand. It was the reason why he finished with his numbers almost instantaneously; Finch had a way of finding every piece of data about a person from only their first initial and their last name. Originally, Shaw thought he was getting police records or receiving bonus information from whatever mysterious figure delivered the numbers to him, but after several numbers that were exempt from police records and after she made him swear he received no additional information, his method remained a secret.

Which was annoying but par for the course with Finch. The man was as secretive as he was introverted and his home address was not an exception. Finch not answering her calls meant Reese was her only link to him and to finding out the truth about Root.

“Shaw.”

She looked up to see the door opened and Reese with his signature look of cool indifference.

“I need your help.”

* * *

 

After going over what she did know about Root (and getting some much needed coffee) Shaw sat back on Reese’s couch and prepared for the impending argument.

“I need Finch.” She said.

“He’s-”

“Busy, I know. And I don’t care what he does in his spare time but I need to find out everything there is about this woman so I can get her out of my hair.” Shaw said, trying not to let her frustration show.

“Have you tried asking her?” Reese replied simply.

Shaw clenched her jaw. Whatever Finch was doing, whatever Reese was hiding, it was getting incredibly annoying. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand Reese avoiding the question.

“I have,” She muttered, “she’s got a few screws loose _and_ she’s a serial killer so I’m not exactly keen on doing what she’s asking me to do.”

Reese sighed and leaned back, he took a sip of his coffee as if he was pondering her words. Shaw resisted the anger bursting at waited for his next denial.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Shaw let out a breath and nodded. All that was left to do was to find Root.

Her phone beeped.

And to deal with her new number.

* * *

 

Finding Root wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be. 

The woman seemed to have a sort of sixth sense with Shaw, almost always finding her without any effort. Right now, Shaw was seated on a bench in Central Park, idly flipping through a newspaper and waiting for her number to show up.

“Did you miss me?”

Root sat on the bench beside Shaw with a smile on her face.

“How do you keep finding me?” Shaw asked, genuinely curious.

Root shrugged.

“I’m kind of drawn to you.” She said. The comment would have earned an eye roll but Root was lacking her usual annoying smirk which meant it was less flirtatious and more genuine.

Shaw looked ahead, her work was full of surprises but even this was a new one. Not only was she stuck with Root but now they shared some sort of spiritual connection.

“Have you thought about my suggestion?”

Shaw inhaled sharply, almost expecting the one-sided argument they would be having.

“I’m finding a different way. Trying to see if there’s something else…anything else.”

Root huffed in annoyance.

“There is no different way, this is the only thing I need to d-”

“It’s not happening, Root,” Shaw said sharply, looking the other woman dead in the eyes, “I’m guessing whatever you’ve caught yourself up in is both secretive and dangerous.”

Root didn’t answer.

“I’m not getting myself caught up in that, nor am I giving someone who is most likely a supervillain their way.”

Root didn’t respond and Shaw almost expected her to storm off once again. Instead, they sat in silence and Shaw counted down the minutes until her number would arrive. A few more minutes went by and Shaw idly sipped at her coffee while glancing at Root from the corner of her eyes; the woman looked deep in thought, like she was a million miles away.

“There is something else.” Root said, quietly enough that Shaw almost didn’t hear her.

Shaw waited for Root to continue but she stood up instead, pausing in front of Shaw as if she was debating her next words.

“Hanna Frey,” Root said, “that’s who you need to find.”

Without another word, she walked off and Shaw stood up as if to chase after her. She was interrupted by her phone’s reminder of her number; Shaw switched the screen and shot off a text message to Reese, hoping he could supply the answers she was after.

* * *

 

“Hanna Frey, went missing at age 14 in 1991 in a town called Bishop, Texas.”

Shaw rubbed at her eyes as Reese pushed the folder over to her. She opened it up and caught only a single newspaper article.

“This is all you have on her?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed.

He shrugged and sipped at his coffee.

“Bishop is a small town, seems they didn’t digitize their records.”

Shaw frowned and read the article, trying to piece together how Root fit into all of this.

“What’s your plan, Shaw?”

She sighed and resisted the urge to bang her head against the table.

“I find out what happened to Hanna, I get rid of Root,” she said despondently, “I’m going to Bishop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fashionably late. I'll update sooner since this chapter was a little short.


	7. Chapter 7

“Have you thought this through?”

Shaw grit her teeth and continued packing her bag.

“How do you know this is even going to work? What are you going to do with your numbers?  What are you gonna tell Fin-”

“Carter!” Shaw said, pushing the last of her clothes into her bag with more force than necessary, “I am _dying_ to hear any other ideas.”

She stared Carter down until the other woman looked away with a huff.

“What exactly is your plan when you get there, Shaw?”

Shaw sighed.

“When I get to Hicksville, I’ll go to the station, get the case file…”

“And solve a twenty year old missing person’s case.” Carter interrupted, eyebrows raised.

“Still waiting on ideas, Carter.” Shaw said.

Carter scoffed and crossed her arms.

“How are you getting the case file? Just gonna ask politely? Are you even capable of asking politely?”

Shaw rolled her eyes and reached for her back pocket. She pulled out a leather case and flashed the badge inside.

“Did you forget I had one of these?” She waved the badge around to Carter’s total bemusement.

“Impersonating a police officer, great. And when you get caught…”

“Then,” She reached into her other back pocket, “I go for Plan B.”

Shaw presented the gun before unloading it and putting it in the bag.

“And if that doesn’t work-”

“Then I’ll ask _real_ politely.” Shaw said sternly, zipping up her bag with more force than necessary.

Carter wasn’t raising any points she hadn’t already thought of, nor was she keen on the idea herself. Spending god knows how long in the middle of nowhere, Texas, with an annoying psychopathic ghost wasn’t exactly the vacation Shaw had dreamed of, but it was the only lead she had.

“I took a leave of absence from work and Reese will take care of my numbers. If it doesn’t work or if Root is playing me, I’ll come right back and we’ll look for the best exorcist in New York together but for now…” Shaw took in a deep breath, “I need to catch my flight.”

Carter stayed silent, she didn’t look any more convinced than before nor did she look amused. A few minutes went by before she nodded in resignation.

“Fine. But you call us if anything goes wrong,” She said, walking towards the door. She stopped at the doorway and turned slightly, “and Shaw…Exorcists are for demonic possessions, not ghosts.”

Carter was grinning. Shaw rolled her eyes good-naturedly but returned the smile.

* * *

 

“So what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Shaw kept her eyes glued to the bottom of her drink as she took a mouthful of the cheap whiskey. Root sat on the nearest stool of the airport bar and sidled closer to her, ignoring Shaw who got tenser with every invaded inch of personal space.

“Corpus Christi, Texas,” Root read from Shaw’s itinerary, “I’m guessing you’re not going for the Selena museum.”

“I’m _going_ because the giant pain in my ass decided that we need to go to middle of fucking nowhere so she can leave me alone for good.” Shaw muttered, taking another swig of her drink. Drinking at midday wasn’t something Shaw did regularly, but the impending journey was something she wanted to be drunk for. She hoped that she might get drunk enough to fall asleep on the plane and avoid conversation with Root completely, but her invulnerable liver meant she needed a few bottles of the overpriced, watered down excuse for whiskey she was currently drinking.

“The pain thing hurts my feelings a little bit but,” Root leaned closer to her with a smirk, “I’d be happy to be in your a-”

“Do not.” Shaw interrupted with a frown that only made Root happier. She finished the last of her whiskey with a grimace.

“I pretty much had to empty out my bank account for this little trip so the least you could do is not be an asshole for fifteen minutes.” She said, turning the face her fully. Root had the decency to wipe the smirk off her face, looking thoughtful instead.

They sat in amicable silence. Shaw checked her watch, half an hour until her six hour flight; she groan inwardly and mentally checked whether her bank account could sustain another drink.

“What if I could offer a refund?” Root said, interrupting the silence.

Shaw snorted.

“And how exactly would you do that?” She asked, a challenging eyebrow raised. The combination of a weak buzz and boredom making her curious about Root’s idea.

Root only smiled wider.

* * *

 

“God you type so slowly.”

Shaw grit her teeth and continued pecking at the keyboard with more ferocity than necessary.

“Just shut up and tell me what to do next.” She said, eyes glued to the computer monitor belonging to the small internet hub in the airport.

Root let out an exasperated breath and leaned closer to Shaw.

“We’re going to get into the bank account of one my aliases who is technically _dead_ so you’re going to have to do this next part quickly… _if you can even manage that._ ” She mumbled the last part, Shaw decided to ignore it and continue typing.

“Just give me the account information and hold the smart ass comment.” Shaw whispered, acutely aware of the looks she was receiving from curious people.

Root sighed again and recounted the account information condescendingly slowly. Shaw typed it in, trying and failing to ignore Root’s proximity to her. If she was alive, she would probably inhale Root’s hair…not that she was interested in what her hair smelled like. She pressed the enter key forcefully and suppressed a gasp when she saw the account.

“I guess wetwork pays well.” She said, trying to decipher how many digits in the account balance.

“Only if you’re good at it.” Root said, with a smug grin. Her lips were mere inches away and Shaw wondered how often their conversations were held almost in each other’s mouths.

“You’re sure the government isn’t monitoring this account?” Shaw asked, looking away with a deep breath.

“Its digital currency, almost completely anonymous and I made sure to put it through a few hoops so it’s harder to find. Besides,” Root said, “we’re only taking enough to supplement our little vacation.”

Shaw repressed the defensive comment on the tip of her tongue and continued following Root’s instructions. With one final mouse click, Root leaned back with a smile.

“Congratulations, Sameen. You just got fifteen thousand dollars richer.”

* * *

 

Shaw placed a handful of miniature bottle on the tray in front of her and began arranging them in order of when to drink.

“I’m glad you’re having fun.” Root said. The cabin was almost empty which unfortunately meant being seated beside Root.

Shaw uncapped the first bottle and took a long swig, almost sighing when she pulled the now-empty bottle away.

“So tell me what you know about the case.” She said as she watched Root from the corner of her eye and uncapped the second bottle. This time, she poured it into the small plastic cup provided by the steward.

Root looked out the window despondently, Shaw didn’t know how she lost the fight for the window seat to a ghost.

“Hanna was my only friend. She went missing one ni-”

“Outside of the local library. No witnesses. No leads. I got that part from the newspaper. What do _you_ know?” Shaw asked, pouring the second bottle into the cup.

“Nothing I won’t be able to find out there.” Root mumbled seriously, as if talking to herself.

Shaw rolled her eyes and stirred the cup with a finger. It looked like she was getting Eeyore instead of the Perky Psycho. Not that she was complaining, when Root was despondent, she was quiet and broody which was annoying but not nearly as annoying as when she was flirty or psychotic. Unfortunately, the buzz Shaw was slowly working up meant that the filter between her brain and her mouth disappeared and she was infuriated with herself as she broke the silence.

“What’s with the mood swings, you’re like a teenager.” She said, taking a sip out of her drink.

Root scoffed angrily.

“You’re one to talk. Is the distant, unemotional thing a job requirement or do you have some sort of personality disorder.” She fired back.

“The second one, actually.” Shaw said, locking eyes with Root. Her PD wasn’t something she enjoyed bringing up but she couldn’t resist the way Root’s eyes widened in shock. Root looked at her with eyebrows raised, asking a question without words. Shaw rolled her eyes and took a large swig out of her drink.

“I have an Axis II Personality Disorder. Ever since I was a kid I didn’t…I don’t feel anything. I don’t get happy or sad or lonely,” She paused, “I do angry okay.”

Root observed her with a serious expression before looking back out the window. Shaw let out a breath, thankful that Root wasn’t assaulting her with _I’m sorrys_ and _that must be hards_ that most people did. It was a part of her that made having genuine connections hard, but it also made her a damn good doctor and an even better soldier.

“I wish I was a sociopath,” Root said, “It would’ve made the things I’ve had to do a lot easier…”

Shaw grit her teeth and repressed the anger at the offhand comment.

“No,” She said firmly, “You don’t.”

Something in Shaw's tone must have warned Root. She took the hint and backed off, suppressing what was probably a bunch of questions. Shaw felt the same desire to ask, to sink her nails into Root and understand the way she worked, why she did what she did, why she believed so strongly she was a monster, what made her into whatever she was. Instead, she looked away, knowing Root would withhold any information lest she give some of her own.

Shaw looked out the window to the clouds above the cities; if Root would find her answers in Bishop then maybe Shaw would too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll stop stalling and we'll get to ~~the fireworks factory~~ Bishop next chapter. Mostly I'm just trying to make things a little light before we get into the heavy stuff.
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos <3


	8. Chapter 8

“You’re lucky you called when you did. Deer season’s just started, booked up solid for the week.”

The hotel owner pushed the door to the motel room open and handed Shaw the key. Shaw frowned and followed him in, taking the key from his hand while taking in the contents of the room.  Small didn’t even begin to describe it, the layout meant jumping over the bed to get to the bathroom which was comprised of a shower that was probably too small even for Shaw. It also meant the two minute walk from the carpark into the room was the only time she wasn’t almost glued to Root. She repressed a sigh and nodded at the motel owner to leave. He closed the door behind them and Shaw stared despondently at the bed and, not for the first time, regretted being here.

“Nice and cozy, I like it,” Root said from somewhere behind her, she walked past Shaw and sat on the edge of the bed, “means we get to share a bed.”

Shaw rolled her eyes, the despondent, mopey Root of the flight and car ride over was gone once again, only to be replaced by the annoying, flirty one.

“You don’t need to sleep and I don’t intend to stay here longer than necessary,” Shaw threw her bag onto the bed, savoring Root’s slight flinch, “let’s get to the station and find the case file.”

Shaw left out the _and get this over with_ but her tone conveyed it well enough. She unzipped the bag and pulled out the stolen police badge and a gaudy looking pantsuit straight from the nineties. It wasn’t her choice of outfit but Carter assured it would help with her cover (and also said that Shaw needed all the help she could get). She shed her hoodie and shirt before remembering Root’s presence; the woman now laying languidly on the bed, her head propped up on one arm.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

Shaw stifled her embarrassment, instead throwing her hoodie at Root (to no avail) and storming off into the miniscule bathroom with the rest of her clothes, followed by Root’s laughter. She slammed the door to the bathroom and hunched over the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror and willing, not for the first time, to be dead…like, actually dead. Immortality seemed fun only in theory, when it wasn’t laced with responsibilities and repetition and what was essentially a customer service job that paid literally nothing. Several times, Shaw felt the urge to follow a number into their lights, to feel the warmth of peace and absolution. Her thoughts were broken by the sound of breathing near the door; she splashed some water on her face and left the bathroom to meet Root, who stood expectantly by the front door.

“So where are we headed first?”

* * *

 

To Shaw’s behest, Bishop’s Sheriff’s Department was not immune to the stifling heat of the town. The suffocating humidity was fought only by a couple of fans whirring noisily, obviously on their last legs. Shaw discreetly wiped at her brow, slightly furious that Root looked absolutely perfect and put together.

“Detective Grey,” Shaw stood up and turned to face the sheriff who closed the door and took Shaw’s hand in one sweep, “what’s brought you out here all the way from New York City?”

“ _This_ idiot is still here?” Root scoffed, “figures.”

Shaw ignored her and took a seat, leaning forward in her chair and trying to emulate the best parts of Carter and Reese.

“It’s uh…regarding the Hanna Frey case back in ’91,” Root’s face twitched imperceptibly, “I have a missing person’s case that matches the MO. Girl went missing outside a library and one of my suspects is from Texas.”

Shaw leaned back, matching the comfortable posture of the sheriff and trying not the glance at Root. Her excuse was flimsy but it was one she and Carter had worked up together, one that Carter assured was the most solid excuse and would lead to the least amount of questions.

“Well what’s your suspect’s name?”

Shaw mentally cursed Carter out and shifted in her seat uncomfortably, stealing a glance at Root and silently begging for a hint. Unfortunately, Root was currently enamored with the chipped black polish on her nails which meant she was unable to see the glare being levelled at her. Shaw cleared her throat and looked back at the skeptical eyes of the sheriff.

“Unfortunately I’m not at liberty to discuss any details of an ongoing case.” Shaw said in her best cop voice, hoping it would be enough to get him off her back.

“Smooth.” Root said from the corner, apparently still paying attention.

“Look sheriff, I’d really just like to take a look at Hanna’s case.” Shaw said through gritted teeth.

“And I’d really like to have the name of your lead,” he replied instantly, “Detective, the Hanna Frey case has haunted this department for twenty years-”

“I am well aware of that, Sheriff. Which is why I need that file.” Shaw interrupted, catching Root slip through the wall behind him and leave the room.

“It’s also why I need that name and if you’re not prepared to give it to me or to forward me to a superior who can, then, detective,” He stood up, “our business here is done.”

Shaw sat silently for a few seconds, acutely aware of the weight and the chill of the gun tucked underneath her blazer. Briefly, she indulged the idea of putting two in his knee (and also getting the case file) before the tiny Finch voice in the back of her head interrupted and shook her out of her thoughts. She stood up, enjoying the flinch on his face as her chair scraped against the floor, and headed for the door.

“Enjoy your stay in Bishop, Detective Grey. Hunting and fishing, second to none.”

Shaw rolled her eyes at the door and suppressed the comment on the top of her tongue. She pushed through the door with more force than necessary and left the office.

“I’m guessing you didn’t charm your way into the file.”

Shaw ignored the voice and continued moving down the hallway and into the waiting room.

“Thankfully, I did your job for you. File is in that room, third cabinet, second row. Receptionist has the key and she’ll be leaving her desk to flirt with the delivery guy outside in about three minutes so…” Root trailed off, her words trailing into a condescending smile and a head tilt.

Shaw looked over to the receptionist and true to word, she was glancing out the window while fixing her hair. A few seconds later, she stood up and left her post, the keys to the offices left behind in plain sight. Shaw moved swiftly and quietly, grabbing the keys surreptitiously and moving towards the office in one clean movement. Finding the right key, she pushed the door open before locking it behind her and making a move for the third cabinet.

“A ‘thank you, Root’ would be nice.”

“Thanks for not helping back there, Root.” Shaw responded, opening the second shelf and fingering through the file names.

“Oh c’mon, you were never going to get anything out of that guy. He’s an idiot _and_ he’s not worth your charm.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and continued fingering through the folders which were annoyingly out of order. Finding the file marked FREY H, Shaw pulled it free and shut the cabinet.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Where are we headed?” Root asked from somewhere behind her.

Shaw opened the first page of the folder and sighed.

“The beginning.”

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, Bishop’s library felt as suffocating and dated as the rest of the town.

Shaw wiped at her brow and discreetly glanced at Root who, once again, looked completely unaffected by the heat. Shaw studied her as she took in the library, her eyes hard and her lips pressed into a fine line, she looked as if her entire body was fraught with tension.

“Sorry about the wait, detective,” a voice called out. Shaw caught a glimpse of a flinch on Root’s face before her attention was taken, “now then, what did you want to ask me? I told you, I’ve already said everything I knew about that night to the sheriff’s office.”

Shaw cleared her throat and smiled politely at the librarian.

“I just need a few things clarified about that night. Was there…anything off about Hanna that night?”

Root’s responding scoff was thankfully drowned out by the librarian.

“Not really,” the woman, Barbara answered, “she came in here like she did almost every night and sat on the computers for a while. When the library was about to close, she checked out a couple of books…and then she was gone. I didn’t think anything of it until I got a call from Sheriff Landry in the middle of the night saying she never got home.”

She glanced at Root again, her eyes had grown distant and her hands were clenched into fists, she looked about a million miles away.

“Do her parents still live here?” Shaw asked, desperate for a lead that Root wasn't giving her.

“Her mother passed a few years ago but her father still lives in town.”

Shaw barely caught Root storming out the door in her peripherals. She nodded gratefully at Barbara before hurrying after her out the door.

“What the hell was that?” Shaw asked, anger now overriding her self-consciousness.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Root paced around the parking lot, looking more anxious than Shaw had ever seen and almost matching her ferocity. Shaw leaned against the cool brick of the wall and folded her arms.

“Well unless you’re ready to tell me the truth and stop making me chase for answers, we’re going to have to keep doing this.” Shaw said, stretching her arms above her head.

Root stopped pacing. She ran a hand through her hair before sighing.

“Fine,” she said, looking directly at Shaw, “let’s go get your answers.”

* * *

 

The only place in Bishop, Texas with decent air conditioning _had_ to be Shaw’s least favorite place probably in the whole world.

The Razorback was a dive in every definition of the word; the floor was a good forty percent dirt, the walls had a layer of grime and the clientele…

“Hey Wall Street!”

Shaw ignored the comment and straightened the collar of her uncomfortable blazer. She walked towards the bar, acutely aware of the numerous eyes glued to her, and leaned towards Root.

“Cody Grayson?”

“Hey!” a man, dressed like every hick stereotype walked into Shaw’s line of sight, “I asked if you were lost.”

Shaw ignored him once again and followed Root’s eyes to the back end of the bar. She walked towards Cody Grayson with a renowned desire to get her answers and get the hell out of the place.

“Hey, Cody. I was wondering if you could tell me about Hanna Frey.”

“Subtle.” Root said with a snort and a renewed vigor caused by the decreased proximity to the library.

Shaw ignored the comment and sat down on the stool beside Grayson. He didn’t spare her a glance, his eyes were glued to the back of the bar.

“You a journalist…or a fed?” He asked.

“Neither.” Shaw answered truthfully.

“Good.”

Shaw barely caught the punch before it landed, pulling Cody’s arm closer into a makeshift arm lock and pressing him painfully against the edge of the bar.

“I asked you nicely.” Shaw growled, adrenaline she hadn’t felt in decades pumping through her veins once again.

“Six o’clock.”

Shaw turned at Root’s comment and barely dodged a punch directed at her head, taking advantage of her attacker’s precarious position to level a knee against his solar plexus and push him away.

“Three o’clock.” Root said, sounding bored.

Shaw turned and caught the pool stick before it struck her, pulling it and the attacker closer to her body and kicking him straight in the stomach. Two more men made an attempt to grab her but Shaw was quicker, grabbing one and using his momentum to throw him against the other. Grayson took advantage and tried for a punch, missing and instead catching one of his own and a knee to his stomach before Shaw grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the doors with all her considerable might. He crashed through the glass with a noise that immediately silenced the whole bar. Shaw took in a breath before pushing the door open and following him out.

He was sat against a support pillar, groaning with pain and looking impressively bloodied. Shaw felt the ache on her own bloodied knuckles as she stood above his limp form. Root stood beside her, eyes bright and smile manic.

“Let me ask you again,” Shaw said, panting slightly, “What happened to Hanna?”

“You want me to say that I killed her?” He said with a humorless laugh, “I didn’t. And if I knew what happened to her, I’d probably still be able to see out of two eyes.”

Shaw considered him angrily, exertion weighing on her as the adrenaline wore off.

“You didn’t do it.” She said, looking at Root furious at being misled once again.

“No.” Root’s eyes had gone cold again but her smile was still there, still manic; she looked disappointed, as if all the fun was over.

Shaw heard the crack of broken glass and Cody stood and scuttled off. She sighed, too angry and too exhausted to play another one of Root’s games. Still aware of all the eyes on her and the growing proximity of the police sirens, Shaw limped down the stairs and to her car, not even caring if Root was following, only wanting to get as far away from her as possible.

* * *

 

The motel room didn’t feel as small or stifling with Root’s absence. Shaw breathed in the coolness of the night air as she sat on the tiny motel bed in only a bra and shorts. Root had the decency to not follow her back to the motel and Shaw was slightly grateful for it. She didn’t know if she could stand to be in the woman’s presence without the overwhelming urge to grab her and shake her as if she was a broken clock she was desperate to fix. Another breeze came in through the window, causing goosebumps on Shaw’s skin and ruffling the pages of Hanna’s discarded file on the floor. When she had gotten back to the motel, stewing in rage and pain and pacing anxiously, throwing the file against the wall of the motel felt like the only way she could get back at Root, to hurt her as much as she was hurt.

Of course, now that the anger had melted into exhaustion, Shaw had only felt stupid. Stupid for caring about the case at all, stupid for following Root blindly, and stupid for coming to Bishop. She winced slightly at the pain on her knuckles as she tightened the gauze on her skin; the pain felt good, therapeutic even, it gave her something to focus on and dulled her thoughts.

“I owe you an apology.”

Shaw scoffed, not looking up, the anger burning in her gut heating up at the sound of that voice.

“Just one?”

Root sighed and leaned against the doorway.

“Cody didn’t kill Hanna.” She said.

Shaw scoffed and pulled her bandages tighter instead of answering.

“I just wanted to see him get hurt. I thought it would…I thought it would make me feel better.” Root said, sounding as tired as Shaw felt.

Shaw stopped her movement and looked up to see Root pressed against the wall, staring out the window and looking like she wanted to be here even less than Shaw.

“Did it?” Shaw asked.

Root smiled sadly at her.

“No.”

Shaw narrowed her lips and steeled her gaze, looking away from Root and back to her hands.

“Good.” She said, staring as red stained the white of the bandage.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, Shaw was determined to ignore Root completely but she still caught glimpses of Root looking at the picture of Hanna Frey on the floor sadly. Finally, after what felt like forever and right as Shaw’s eyelids began to droop, Root broke the silence once again.

“I’m ready to tell you the truth about what happened to her,” She said. Something in her tone stopped Shaw from snapping back at her and she instead sat in silence as Root brooded, “His name is Trent Russell.”


End file.
